If I Didn't Know Any Better
by littleredwritinggleek
Summary: When a town like Lima, Ohio, loses their golden boy, it's a tragedy not to be forgotten.But for his best friend and girlfriend, an unexpected death can lead to pain beyond understanding, confusion without answers, and a broken road that points towards a bond neither saw coming. AU, Quick.(Lyrics in title belong to Alison Krauss.)
1. Chapter 1

It's time for a new story! Okay, I know I will probably use long, over-drawn author's notes throughout this story. But I promise to limit them. That being said, bear with me for this one. This story, if I succeed in writing it, will be a very emotional and tragic piece. Without giving everything away, I aim to explore the emotional depths of the bond between two people who share a tragic experience completely to themselves. I don't really know where this came from, but I've had the idea for a while. The plot will jump back and forth, and yes, it is AU. Any mistake are mine, as this is un-beta'd. I honestly don't know what to say besides that and, thank for all your support of my other stories and possibly this one. Oh, and for all chapters, basic glee elements, characters, etc, are not mine, and the intent of this piece isn't to say otherwise._  
_

xoxo,

littleredwritinggleek

* * *

_Present Day_

_ The lights flashed, blue and red, blinking rapidly. Her whole body felt dull, an underlying sense of pain that she couldn't yet feel just under the surface of her skin. She slowly moved, shifting on the cold seat underneath her. Muted voices and sirens filled her ears, steady and hollow white noise that streamed throughout her whole head. They grew louder, the lights brighter. The pain slowly started to set in, creeping up little by little._

"_The boy, in the driver's seat! Get the boy!"_

_Boy, what boy?_

_Quinn turned her head, as if in slow motion. And with the sight of what was next to her, the pain finally set in, engulfing her body. She let out a scream, but it couldn't be heard._

_It was like she wasn't even screaming at all._

_Hell, maybe she wasn't. She didn't know.  
_

_A hand found hers, caressing it almost in a subconscious way._

And then she woke up. It was the same dream. It was always that dream. The dream was every bit of information she knew about that night, playing out in her sleep. Normally, she'd wake up, slightly aching and her heart beating rapidly. She would grab a glass of water, stare blankly at the muted television for a few minutes, and then fall back into an empty, calm sleep in her bed.

But not tonight. Tonight she rose calmly, her pulse even. She moved out of her bed, but didn't grab water. Instead, she reached for keys. Bright, shiny car keys. The snow was piling up heavily outside, the air cold, with a biting wind. Her hand turned the door knob, and she stepped bare-footed outside. Outfitted in only shorts and a t-shirt, she should have felt the freezing temperature chill her bones. But she didn't. She didn't feel anything.

Turning the key in the ignition, she mechanically backed out of the drive, moving the vehicle with ease. The roads were snowy, but not icy quite yet. She wasn't even aware of where she was going, simply driving as if it was like breathing, walking. It was easy, simple.

Turn by turn she made her way to her destination, the one that only her sub-conscious new. She didn't notice the quiet light coming out of a second-story window amongst the rows of dark houses. Everyone was blissfully sleeping in their beds, unaware of the sixteen-year-old driving past their houses, as far as she knew.

Finally, she found the place. It was empty, of course, the snow on the ground fresh and untainted. She got out of the car, oblivious to the fact that both and engine and the lights were still on, blinded in her trance-like state.

Her feet padded across the snow, her body guiding her the the stone, cold and hard. She wiped the layer of precipitation off of it. Normally, she wouldn't have known that this was it, but somehow she did, the name and dates confirming it. Her finger reached out, tracing the name.

_F. _The world was so still, as if time was as frozen as the trees. It was as if she could stay here, perfect and barely moving, forever.

_I. _Could she? Could she sit here, everyday, ignoring the world? Could she wither away right alongside the stone, never changing, only slowly vanishing?

_N. _Her finger moved along the slanted lines. "N" was for no. Of course not. How could she begin to vanish when that had already happened?

_N. _Again. Repeated. It was unfair. Nothing in life should be repeated. Not if everything _couldn't _be.

_H. _She continued on, unaware of the sound of a car different than her own driving the same path she drove. If she had been aware, she would've heard it slowly echo as it came closer.

_U. _Further it moved, but, sitting cross-legged, arms wet from melted snow that was slightly frozen, she didn't hear. Nothing could disturb the peace she felt, the hollow, emptiness.

_D. _That's what this was, right? Peace? It had been too long since she'd felt it, so how would she know?

_S. _A car pulled up next to hers. She was unaware of the male figure that jumped out, eyes searching. His eyes found her own body. Footsteps crunched through the snow, running. No, she couldn't register this. It was too much like the dream itself: the further it progressed, the more real it got.

_O. _Like the pain setting in, she heard the steps come closer. And then, a voice, calling out to her. Keep tracing, it could go away. But no, arms found hers, wrapping around her as their owner crouched next to her, enveloping her freezing body in his own.

_N. _And then it was over. She felt herself being lifted, and for a fleeting moment, maybe it was perfect. Maybe the warm arms would send her up straight into the heavens, where she could sit and trace right next to_ him_, for eternity. But that didn't happen. Instead, heavy-looking boots trudged through the snow, towards the lights of two cars parked side by side. She felt herself being put into one of them, the door shut behind her. The guy went to the other car, turned off the engine, locking the doors and pocketing the keys. She heard him get into the car she currently sat in, shutting the door before turning to the backseat and pulling out a blanket, wrapping her up in it. He looked at her, his gaze a mixture of so many different things she couldn't read it. She didn't even have to look to know that. She didn't _want_ to look.

Because one of those things would definitely be disappointment. And that was what she feared the most.

"Dammit, Q." And after those two words that confirmed her suspicion, he let out a sigh and stepped on the accelerator, driving away out of the parking lot.

And for the second time that night, she slowly woke up, albeit in a different way.

She finally felt: sad, angry, lonely, hateful, exhausted, and _cold_. Very, _very _cold.

Just like her dream, everything finally sunk in. A hand reached out in that same accidental way, caressing her own.

It was time to bolt awake, because she wasn't sleeping. She was living, breathing, absolutely one hundred percent _alive._

And Finn Hudson, six feet under the cold hard ground, was not.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all of your lovely reviews, I always appreciate them. I am continuing this, of course! Now two chapters in and I'm fully invested, my passion for this only growing as I type. Life gets in the way however, so please be patient if I ever seem to be drifting from writing this. I'm already trying to get a head start on typing it up. Please know that if the waiting time between updates is long, it means that my home life, school, ect, is taking over, not that I'm losing interest!

xoxo,

littleredwrititnggleek

* * *

_October 15, 2009_

One week. It had been one week. And, admittedly, it was a week of both total shock and denial. Quinn put on her uniform everyday, pulled her hair into a high pony, and walked down the halls as if nothing had happened. Brave-faced and confident as ever, it was as though tragedy had never even struck. People looked, even if she didn't know it. They were confused, watching the pretty blonde carry on as if she didn't have a brace on her wrist and a scar down her collarbone. As far as she knew, nothing had happened.

Maybe it was because she didn't know what _had _happened.

Of course she knew that Finn was gone, passed on, but it didn't register fully. She didn't tell anyone, but she couldn't remember anything from that night. Aside from lights and that voice, the one calling out about, _get the boy_, she had no idea about anything or anyone during the accident. The details were gone. Her memory spanned from what she was doing before to the lights and then nothing. Quinn had never felt so scared in her life. But she pushed through, leaving that night in the past. She went to class, did homework, and ignored Sue when the coach gently told her that she couldn't risk Quinn cheering after all the trauma her body had sustained. In the blonde's mind, she'd be back on the field for the next game, as if the last one was simply a thing of the past.

Now, she currently stood in front of her mirror, her hair curled and her makeup done. She wore a simple black dress and kitten heels. She looked calm, collected, as if nothing were wrong. She pretended the black brace on her left wrist wasn't there, and had taken careful time to even;y conceal her scar the best she could, the dress hiding the bandage on it, powder and foundation blended around it as though it was a permanent fixture, nothing out of the was the Fabray in her, the part of her that could hide pain and emotion. Today, she was going to be like Jackie O, strong, poised, and graceful. She would sit through the service, accept hands and hugs, and watch with an even expression, up until the crank lowered the coffin in the ground. She was _fine._

Her mother and sister walking out to the car with her was a blur. The small service before the actual funeral was a blur. The faces of every student, teacher, and faculty member at McKinley were blurs. Deep down she knew that she should be taking everything in. Her mascara should run, she she crumple at the sight of Carole's weeping, falter as she spoke an incredibly emotional speech in front of the congregation. But she did none of that, only standing and sitting when necessary, not noticing the confused glances her mother and Frannie, her sister, exchanged.

Subconsciously, she was only searching for one person, and upon entering the church, had yet to find him, still.

She heard the preacher talk about Finn, about his dad, his love for football, his recent membership of the glee club, and how him being there brought them all together. Carol wept, girls wept, boys tried to hold back tears the best they could, but Quinn was so _calm_, even as everyone filed out of the church to head towards the cemetery, she was perfectly fine, not a single tear shed.

Until she saw him.

In a suit.

Mohawk, gone.

Life wasn't like the movies, if it was, she would've been a mess by now. And even if not, she would have crashed at the sight of him, tears falling as she ran into his familiar arms, squeezing him for all he was worth. hey would rock each other and cry, dramatic, painful tears. But it didn't happen that way.

The whole thing was unsettling, disturbing, actually. He didn't look sixteen, he looked like a man. He stood, hands folded in front of him, and, almost as if he felt her stare, locked eyes with her for a fleeting moment. He was calm, just as calm as her, but how could she see that when she didn't even know that she herself was eerily calm? If she could see everything clearly, Quinn would've noticed that Puck and she were the only two that were so composed. She would've seen it coming, seen the meaning behind their matching composure. The blonde's mind was elsewhere, however.

It was instantly filled with all of their memories.

Every part of Finn was with him, Puck with Finn, and both of them with her.

Growing up, it had always been the three, Finn, Quinn, Puck. Finn's dad died when he was a baby, but Quinn and Puck held onto their families until Puck's dad left when he was eight, Quinn's father cheating on and divorcing her mother even earlier, when she was only five. But from the get-go, it was always them. They'd grown up together, sneaked out together, went to their first party together. Quinn's sister being ten years older than she, those two boys were all she had. Eventually, at age fourteen, Finn and Quinn finally started dating. Puck was ominous, the one who always had a different girl, a loner, but with them. He never followed into the whole girlfriend and first love route that every other jock and cheerleader did. It was a mystery to Quinn. Puck never held out for only one girl, something she couldn't a bad boy, Puck broke almost all stereo types but remained their close friend. Even when Finn and Quinn made their relationship official, Puck never strayed, if only a little. Quinn didn't ever really notice the small distance, though. When all three were together, nothing felt different. Yet, things still were the same, up until the end. Their laughs, their music, their everything, r_arely_ faltered.

And here he was, the only other piece left. And he never seemed like more of a stranger to her. It was like she didn't know how to simply _be _without Finn. Of course, Puck had always been there. And things never changed, up until recently. But now, she could feel the slight distance created ever since she and Finn became a couple flooding through the room. Puck's lack of presence on their dates, the way he wasn't there every single moment like before. All of it added up, weighing down her chest and making her head throb. This boy, the one that usually was so bright just for Finn and Quinn, was now the solemnest she'd ever seen him. When he was with the coupe, he_ always_ _smiled.  
_Now, he wasn't smiling just for her. Could he?

Lost in her delusional world for the entire past week, Quinn couldn't even recall seeing or talking to Puck at all. But now, lo and behold, their eyes locked. And it was like a light bulb clicking on as what felt like the entire population of Lima, Ohio, moved out of the building. Puck followed them out, still calm and collected.

But it didn't last long. Their gaze had been broken, but once their eyes found each other for the second time as the last words were said, it was done. Done, done, done. Finn was gone. What were they supposed to do without him? How could a mother ever bury her son, how could a town lay a teenager into the ground? Where did they go from here, with him gone? He was like Puck and Quinn's glue, completing them effortlessly. What was life going to be like without the goofy, tall and awkward boy that seemed to mesh all of their differences together and make them complete? This was the boy that felt so much sympathy four a couple of nerdy singers that he took his voice and horrible dance skills and joined _glee club_. Puck and Quinn were the bad ones, but not Finn. Finn was innocent.

_Only the good die young._

It echoed through her head as time stood still and Puck's hazel eyes held her in for what seemed like an eternity. How was Quinn taking this? Why was she not truly listening, crying, mourning like everyone else?

And why wasn't Puck?

And before she knew it, she was running, simultaneously taking off her shoes and holding them in her hands, her heart pounding. He first chased after her head start, but quickly fell in stride with her as they wove through the pathways of the cemetary, not hearing anyone behind them. In an unspoken pact, they both ran, willing their bodies to feel something, anything. Lima was eerily still and quiet, but yet, their feet pounded on the sidewalks, gaining ground like crazy, almost as loud as their beating hearts. Maybe they could run forever, she thought, circling all the way through time until they came back around to that night, to change it. If she could just keep going, nothing would be real. If she never saw Finn's coffin in the ground, then it could be like it wasn't even there at all.

Finally, she needed to stop. She leaned up against a building downtown, out of breath. Puck stopped beside her and went to run his fingers through his mohawk, only to find it gone. After their panting subsided, they just sat, sinking down on the ground, their nice black clothes dirtied by the dusty sidewalk.

"I don't feel anything." she said. Weren't people supposed to feel? Weren't they supposed to cry, at least by the time of the funeral? Weren't they supposed to sob and ache and hurt? Why didn't she? Why could she not feel the textbook symptoms of grief?

"Me either." It came a beat later, indifferent yet an agreement nonetheless.

"I feel like I'm supposed to feel something." She said. What was this? Why did Puck feel ten thousand miles away from her, when he'd been there her whole life? And why did she suddenly feel like every thought and question in her head was repetitive, a broken record? That's all anything was, questions. So many question marks it made her head spin.

He sighed, dejected, as he stood up. She desperately wanted to be inside_ his_ head, to see what he was thinking. From the outside, it appeared as though he wasn't thinking at all. She wanted that, to find a way to drop the questions and just_ feel, _something, anything.

"I'm going to get a drink." He said, looking at her, eyes inviting her. His expression was a little glazed over though, tired and weary. She knew what she should do, turn the other way and go home, figure herself out. She should leave him to get drunk alone, she should leave him to wander off and spiral down while she drifted through a life full of denial. Because even drinking was admitting there_ was_ a problem, because it was away to ignore it. Left to her own devices, she could forever pretend that her former best friend didn't even exist, that he really was a stranger. Quinn could pretend that she didn't even have a reason to drink at all. But her instincts were telling her that this numbness, this lack of feeling, wasn't just a short step to healing. They told her that this numbness was out of control, and that only fueled her desire to create her own numbness, to be in control and to make herself feel. Since when did she lose control over anything? They were only feelings, they couldn't be touched or seen. So why shouldn't she just make her own? The thought alone of losing anything else made her heart beat in an anxious angst.

"Okay." She stood up, brushing herself off, and followed him as they walked unknowingly down what was actually the long road that they would use to search for feeling and control.

Just one drink, just something to ease the pain. That's all that was, at least in that moment.

That was the first step.

That was how it began.


	3. Chapter 3

__Midterms are fast-approaching so updates might be a little haywire and only average lengths. This is where the plot jump really starts off, so you'll get a taste of what their drinking had led to. I aim to write long nice chapters, but that probably won't happen until the plot timeline evens out, so sorry if these don't seem like enough. Enjoy and please leave a review! Your support is beyond appreciated.

-xoxo,

littleredwritinggleek

* * *

November,_ 2009_

As per the routine, started ever since the funeral, one of them, whichever it was that felt they needed to be out of school, would casually walk by the classroom the other one was in. Quinn would've never guessed that memorizing Puck's schedule, let alone sneaking, well more like just walking out of class, would be become a daily part of her life. But here she was, third period, ditching study yet again.

Maybe it was because he had weight-lifting with Finn this period before everything happened, but Quinn noticed that it usually was third period that they snuck out. Maybe he was just being courteous, not wanting her to miss anything important. But then again, that would be saying that school was important. Which, it wasn't. That left the only option being that the empty locker-room bench next to him was too much to bear, too much to handle. Quinn didn't want to think of that.

So instead she opened the door to his truck and grabbed the bottle out of his hands, taking a sip of the liquor inside. Obviously, drinking like this wasn't good for her, but nothing really was. It did, however, give her the numbness that she craved, since feeling still seemed to far out of reach. For Puck, she didn't know. He got a glazed over look in his eyes as he stared out of the parking lot, into no place in particular. If it were up to her, they'd leave, go off somewhere, but that meant staying in whatever place until Puck was sober enough to drive again. The parking lot was easier, despite it being at a school. It made Quinn think of television shows, the way they could just up and leave, getting drunk right on school grounds. It proved how much everyone cared, or rather that they didn't at all.

"Tell me." She said suddenly, putting the bottle down. He let out a tired sigh, one that meant he really didn't want to talk. She hated these days, especially because it always seemed that she got the courage to whenever this happened. It could've been the alcohol, but it didn't matter. Puck was always so closed off and it was beyond frustrating.

"Tell you what, Q."

"What happened that night."

If it was hard for her, it was even harder for him. Quinn was the only one who understood, who knew, because she was there. So how could he leave her? But getting drunk meant that she got bolder, fought a little more.

"No." She could be bold all she wanted, but he could out-do her stubbornness every single time.

"Why? Don't you ever think about how maybe I deserve to know?" She began to pick up the bottle, but he stopped her, bringing it to his own lips instead. The effect of it was taking over him, and every normally sensible part of him, the ones that said, be_ gentle_, were gone.

"Then ask someone." He hated the way he sounded. He could still remember the bored, careless tone in his drunken father's voice telling his mom to "_do whatever the fuck she wanted and leave him alone_." That was dead-beat, because even yelling would have been caring. And in times like these, that's what Puck was, dead-beat. Gone when she needed him the most. But they weren't dating, he didn't even know what they were. And besides, how could he honestly look her in the eyes and tell her everything that had happened, all that they saw but she had suppressed, every horrific detail? How could he tell her what he had done for her, but couldn't have for Finn, even if he so desperately wanted to? This was bigger than telling her the tragedy of it all. Revealing it would have been revealing a part of him that he had carefully hidden all these years, and he wasn't ready for that. She deserved the whole truth, and one day she'd get it. Just not today.

"I can only ask you. No one else was there." She reached out again but he kept the liquor hidden from her, it was really the last thing she needed. However, her eyes seemed ablaze and whatever angry drunk traits he'd heard about in the many rumors spread about Russell Fabray took shape in the girl in front of him.

"Dammit Noah!" Swinging her hand out, she tried to slap him, but he was again quicker. He caught her hand just in time, holding it as it shook under his firm grip. He stared at her with dark eyes, taking in her furrowed brow and the furious look she had on her face. It was as though she was about to either cry or simply give in, matching his carelessness. Before he could find out, he heard a knock on his window. Dropping her hand and looking out, he saw the Spanish teacher and Glee Club director, Mr. Shue.

_Shit._

He gave a look to Quinn and got out of the car as she did the same. Like little children about to be reprimanded, only wearing teenager clothing and one of them gripping the neck of a bottle, they stood.

"I think you two need to come into my office." The man said, standing in the parking lot. They nodded and followed him, not daring to look at each other.

The glee club room was spacious and bright, bordered with instruments, a sheet-music covered piano in the center. Mr. Shue directed the two to sit in two of the plastic chairs in the lines of seats.

Pulling up a stool, he faced them, compassion evident on his face.

"Listen, I don't need an explanation, or to tell you that what you've been doing is wrong, or even to try to inspire you. I can only imagine that you both don't need any more of that."

Quinn and Puck exchanged guilty glances.

"What we've been doing." Quinn repeated. She had honestly thought that no one had even known.

"I have glee this time every day. From this very room I can see you two leave. And event though it might seem like an easy way to escape, I think we all know that it needs to stop."

"So where are all the stupid freak show performers that dragged Finn into this anyways?" Puck asked to the floor, mumbling. Mr. Shue, obviously seeing that the boy was under the influence of alcohol, ignored the comment.

"I sent them to the library so that I could talk with you, Noah. You too, Quinn." Taking in a deep breath, he continued. I want both of you to join glee club.

"No." Quinn said. Puck echoed her soon after.

"Hear me out. Quinn, I know that you can dance, because of cheer-leading. And Santana and Brittany can, too. And Rachel told me she's seen you sneak into the auditorium to play the piano in there.

"Berry? Since when does she even know what I do?" Quinn scoffed, letting the alcohol fuel her unfinished anger with Noah.

"And Puck, some of the football guys said you play guitar. And that if you're joining, they will too. Just hear me out." He said, knowing the boy would interrupt.

"The glee club can't perform without twelve members. Right now we only have a handful. And we need more people. Both of you are keys to bringing in new members. But that isn't even the point. I think you both need an outlet, just to express your feelings. Words aren't easy, but songs are. Glee, by it's very definition, is about opening yourself up to joy. I think I'm right when I say that both of you could use a little of that."

Quinn and Puck really couldn't say anything, at first. But as soon as she found a reason to object, Quinn chimed in.

"He was here. I can't do it." She said. It was true. How could she even be in this stupid room without thinking of her old boyfriend's clumsy dance moves and rock n' roll voice that she heard when to time as he sang to the radio?

"Maybe it would open your eyes and let you heal a little, as I think it would show you the joy that Finn felt while performing. Underneath it all, he really didn't care about being popular, just happy. And making others happy."

"You don't have to tell us that." Puck snapped, still angry. Quinn nodded slowly, secretly happy that Puck was including her in what he said. Even though she shouldn't have been.

"I want you to have the opportunity to find the joy that Finn did in glee." The teacher finished, standing up." I think it would help you." He turned to walk away, pausing for one more second.

"The bottle goes on my desk Noah." He walked out of the room, leaving the two stunned in his wake.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi! Your response has been amazing, really. I wanted to mention that the cover image for this story was found on Google, and it is not my manip. All credit goes to its rightful maker/Glee. I think this chapter shows a little more of the AU in this story, so I hope you like that. I know you probably all have a lot of questions, and concerns, but please be patient, as well as leave them in the reviews! I'm more than happy to provide answers. I hope this is flowing okay, and that you all are enjoying it.

xoxo,

littlredwritinggleek

* * *

_October 2009_

Quinn walked down the hallways, the florescent lights blinding her as locker doors slammed, gunshots in her ears. Before the funeral, she hadn't ever had more than a glass of champagne to drink. She knew that a hangover was inevitable, but she didn't think it would be this bad. Or carry over to Monday.

She felt self-conscious as she walked, her purse slung around her, outfitted in simple jeans and a t-shirt. Her brace seemed to weigh her wrist down, and the scar on her collarbone felt like a shining traffic light, attracting everybody's attention. She reached up and tugged the beret that hid her messy hair down a little further. In all honestly, she felt disheveled and looked like hell. The fact that putting on actual jeans had felt like an accomplishment in the morning scared her. She wasn't her usual composed and perfect self, and everybody saw it.

"Here." She arrived at her locker to the sight of Puck standing against it, the door open. He handed her two Advil, watching as she swallowed them dry.

"What are you doing here." She stated, too tired to even add infliction to her voice. On top of getting stone-cold drunk, she hadn't gotten much sleep over the weekend.

"Making sure you get to class." he said, his expression blank.

"I'm a big girl, Puck. I can take care of myself."

"If you on Saturday was an indication, you aren't and you can't." She replied back, showing no emotion. Except maybe the exhaustion she felt.

"It was your idea to get drunk." She said, trying to remember which bright colored folder she needed. Since when did her school supplies become so obnoxious?

"It was a bad one. I should've known better than to involve you" He said, pulling out an orange folder and giving it to her.

_Since when did he know that?_

"Finn is dead. And you're yelling at me about you letting me drive out with you to the middle of nowhere and getting drunk." She said back. That was really all that had happened. After a short walk back to his house, Quinn and Puck drove to the deserted baseball field in Lima, sitting in a dugout and taking turns drinking. They were both silent, and eventually Quinn had passed out, waking up just as a secretly scared and equally drunk Noah deposited her in the car and drove her home, without accident or injury only by the grace of God himself. From there, he found her mom and , probably at the reception and worried sick, still gone. He put Quinn in her bed and managed to write a note saying that he took her home because it was too much for her to handle. That was how the whole body-guard thing started. Judy had called Puck and thanked him, asking him to look out for Quinn at school. He couldn't even face her, but somehow didn't have the heart to lie to Judy or flat out tell her no. So here he was, standing at Quinn's locker, handing her books and telling her to get to class.

"Your mom wants me to watch out for you. That's all this is. And you know what, Fabray? I don't really care if you get drunk and pass out every night. Do what you want then. But as for now, I have to make sure that you get to class."

"So that's what this is, you babysitting me. Well, you don't have to. I don't need to waste your time." She said. Part of him knew that she was holding back tears, and that killed him. He hadn't meant to come off as harsh-sounding as he had. It was a reflex, a defense mechanism.

"Look,Quinn. I hate to be the one who has to 'keep you in line' or whatever, and believe me, I am not about to get all emotional and shit. This whole this is fucked up, and I don't want to be here any more than you do."

"Then let's go." she said evenly.

"What?"

"Like you've never cut class before. I don't want to be here and neither do you, so let's go. I have a massive headache and I really could care less about math right now."

He stopped. If Quinn was suggesting leaving school then it had to be serious. He didn't know if he wanted to let that happen, though. He couldn't just enable her behavior, encouraging her to cut class with him, even it had been her idea. But then again, he took a good look at here. She shouldn't have even been at school. He hadn't wanted to and wasn't planning on it until Judy roped him into, adamant about Quinn staying productive as she "healed" or whatever. She didn't deserve to be sitting through classes ready to fall asleep. The part of him that warned him about the whole thing, letting her drink away her pain and now cut class, was silenced by the sad look in her eyes and the bags under them. If he knew one thing, it was that Quinn's whole life had been structure. He now had the chance to let her breathe, find herself. If that meant cutting class, so be it.

"Fine." He finally answered, putting her books back in her locker. If they left now, before the bell, no one would see them walk out, and every teacher would assume that they weren't in class because of Finn. Puck didn't know how long that excuse would be good for, but it saved their asses this time, and Judy would think he kept his promise. It was win-win.

* * *

Puck didn't know where exactly to take Quinn. Usually when he cut her stayed at his own house or drove to where ever he felt like going. All Quinn looked like she needed was sleep. His mom was at work at the hospital until late, so Quinn could probably stay at his place until after school.

"Text your mom and tell her I'm driving you home." He said, making a turn. She pulled out her phone and obliged, eyelids fluttering slightly.

When he finally pulled into his drive, she seemed to finally regain her wits, aware of where she was, only a few streets down from her own home. Growing up, the close proximity between her, Finn, and Puck had always seemed like a good thing. Now, it just made her feel sad. Puck was a few streets over but it felt like he was a world away.

"Why here?" she asked, looking at him.

"Because I have stuff here that I need to do anyways. And you need to sleep." She nodded, seeming to agree with him for the first time that day, and got out of the car, following him into the familiar house. The Puckerman home was small, but with two stories, the outside off-white with blue shutters.

She looked around. The place was a bit messier than usual, probably the result of Ruth working and Puck not doing much house work, understandable given what had happened. Quinn had always known that he had a lot of his plate. While his mom worked, Puck was responsible for himself, the house, and taking care of his eight-year old little sister Sarah. On top of that he had football and cleaned pools whenever possible. However, being in the home made her relax, and she didn't feel as distant for a moment.

"Do you need help, with anything?" She asked. It wasn't to be rude, and he luckily didn't take it that way. She felt her self at ease a little more, slowly falling back into old ways with him. When things got especially stressful around his home, Finn and Quinn had always come over, whether it was to help watch Sarah or help Puck sort out the messes that always occurred a little later on when Puck's father made random appearances. And the same went for Finn's place, whenever his mom had worked late or had spent all day locked in her room, crying. They were able to be there for each other.

"I've got it. You can just head upstairs. You seriously look like hell." He said, shooting her a look. She rolled her eyes in response, turning away to go to his bedroom.

When Quinn had left, Puck sighed, looking around the kitchen. He had been a complete mess the entire weekend, something he still felt guilty about. His mom was a hard-working nurse, and relied on him. He felt like her let her down as he looked at the room, beginning to clean it up. Lately he didn't know what he was going to do. On top of his family life, he now had Quinn to worry about. It wasn't like she was this unwanted burden, but Puck knew how much she needed him. Judy was going to go the traditional route, trying to send her to therapy and whatnot. He knew that all of that wasn't what Quinn needed. She was far beyond expressing her feelings. When they had been sitting in the dusty dugout in silence, he'd seen her, watched her. The more she drank, the more she mumbled things about Finn and missing him. Puck had lost his best-friend, but so had Quinn. He had to remember that, even if being selfish and only caring about himself was easier. Yet, every time he tried to say the right thing he ended up sounding like a heartless douche to Quinn. Although, in a small way, she needed that. Everyone else was going to tip-toe around her, and Puck knew she _hated_ that. The way people had been addressing both of them really had just come off as coddling, and irritating, because no one really got it,

Soon enough, he found himself in a clean kitchen, moving on to the living room, quietly lost in his thoughts.

Upstairs, Quinn lay on his bed, the only thing preventing her from falling asleep her thoughts, racing through her head at a non-stop rate.

Quinn had only been on Puck's bed one other time before. It was when she was thirteen and Finn had been gone for the weekend for a trip with Carole. Quinn's father had come home and Judy and he had been yelling non-stop. Quinn sneaked out and rode her bike to Puck's, climbing up through his window. She sat on his bed and quietly cried, knees tucked up to her chest. Seeing him for the first time in eight years had hurt, and Puck understood. Eventually, when her shoulders stopped shaking and she looked up, she met his eyes, kind and caring. And then, he reached out, wiped away a tear with his thumb and said "You seriously look like hell, Fabray."

And now here she was, three years later, wondering if he even remembered saying that to her the first time. It had given her heart a weird flutter the first time, a feeling she hadn't ever understood, and this time, curled up on his navy blue comforter, was no different, the lack of understanding included. When they were thirteen, he had grabbed the copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's and put it in, settling next to her. It was her favorite movie, and his mom just so happened to own it. He knew from her bad days that she always felt better after watching it. Now, she looked around the room that hadn't changed at all, breathing in the comforting scent of cologne and worn leather. Puck's room was simple. His oak twin bed was pushed up against the wall, and contained the comforter and gray sheets, two pillows resting against the headboard. He had a matching desk with a small television on it, now probably used for playing his Xbox. Besides a closet door and another one that led to a small en suite bathroom, the whole thing was bare and clean, the wood floors dirt-free. Despite being a guy, Puck was a clean person, as was Quinn. She knew he was because he had no choice, his mom simply wasn't home enough to be the house's main caretaker. Quinn then thought of Finn, his cowboy wallpaper, and Carole, who cleaned his room for him. The two boys really had been different when it came to who they were outside of school.

Eventually, the lack of sleep hit her, and Quinn drifted off, unaware of when Puck came up ten minutes later, putting Breakfast at Tiffany's on quietly before shutting the door behind him.

* * *

With Quinn dead asleep upstairs and the whole house clean and in order, Puck was left alone, trying to find something decent to watch. The time being only 9:30, there was nothing but morning talk shows and everything on ESPN seemed to be repeats, and it wasn't like football highlights were his top priority. In fact, he was contemplating quitting. The team had been amazing, their season flawless, but with Finn gone, he didn't know if he could bear to play. Pushing all thoughts of Finn aside, he let his mind drift to Quinn. He never would've guessed that she would be practically knocked out on his bed like this. The last time she was over by herself had been when she was thirteen and came over. He remembered her crying, and then watching the movie together. She always went on about Audrey whatever all the time, a lover of old movies. He'd remembered that when cleaning, finding the copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's while cleaning. He didn't thinks he'd wake up in time to see any of it, but Puck knew it made her feel better. The last time as soon as it was over, she'd fallen asleep. Puck remembered not knowing what to do, eventually just distancing himself from her, trying not to take in the way she slept so peacefully. From there he had woken up early, making sure that she didn't know he'd stayed in his bed, before getting her back home safe and sound.

The truth was. even then, it was hard to leave the bed, not to look at her hair sprawled over the pillow, the sound f her even breathing compelling, like a lullaby.

Now, when he'd first gone in to check on her, he'd looked once again. He couldn't though. The whole thing wasn't right. It never was and never would be. Quinn was not his to look at.

After sifting through the channels and settling for the morning news, Puck made coffee and thought about what was going to happen. The feeling of the whole ditching school thing not being a one-day ordeal was still in him. But what was he going to do? Let Quinn sleep on his bed everyday while he stayed downstairs and tried not to think about her sleeping in his bed, all while seeing Finn in his mind? Damn Finn. Of course it had been him. Finn was innocent and happy all the time, in the way that made you want to be near him. Puck had never been like, not the ray of sunshine Finn had been. It really should have been himself, Puck always thought. No one cared about him, he wasn't in the spotlight. If Finn was the sun, Puck was the shadow, always following behind silently. Always the sidekick, the quiet one, the loner. No one would have cared if he was gone. Puck wondered if Quinn resented him. After all, it was her boyfriend that was dead, while his fuck-up friend was still very much alive. If Puck had died, Finn wouldn't have allowed for Quinn to get so drunk she passed out after the funeral. He would have been emotional, holding Quinn as they cried together. He would have treated her like she was fragile, and Puck just wasn't capable of that.

A sharp scream interrupted his thoughts, instincts kicking in has he raced up the stairs two at a time. What was Quinn doing, was she okay?

He found her, sitting up on his bed, shaking. Quickly he went over to her.

"Quinn?" Nothing. He put his hands on her arms, trying to calm the shaking. "Are you okay?" In the background, Audrey Hepburn was flinging items around the room on the screen.

"I had the dream." She said, looking up. He sat down on the edge of his bed.

"The dream?" He asked, confused.

She went on to explain her typical nightmare to him as he listened intently.

"I have dreams, too. It's okay."

"No,it isn't. Because that dream, that is all I can remember from that night. What actually happened, I don't remember it." she said, looking down at her hands.

Puck didn't know what to say. What could he? Quinn and he had been through a very traumatic experience, and she had mentally suspressed it against her will. But the details were horrifying, he couldn't just divulgde them when she was so upset.

"That's fine. It's just,um, your way of coping. A defense mechanism. When you're ready you'll rnemeber, Quinn. Just give it time," He finished, looking at her.

"Okay." She said after a moment, taking in what he just said. He could see the disappoiment on her face, but didn't say anything.

"Yeah, you're right. Time." she finally finished, rubbing her eyes.

Sitting next to her, he grabbed the remote, rewinding the movie.

"From the beginning?" he asked, giving her a small smirk. She resisted the urge to cuddle in next to him.

"Yeah, from the beginning."

They were both talking about more than just the movie.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hi! Long story short, my computer is anchient and fanfiction doesn't want to let me log in on it. So, this update is from my phone, not too reliable but it is something, and I didn't want to wait any longer. That is why it is short, and may have typos, sorry loves! _

_Anyways, your reviews are so sweet! And now, since the show does not ship Quick, but I won't rant about how mad I am at the Puck/Kitty debacle, here is some quick, hope you like it. Trust me, they'll find their way in this, just be patient!_

* * *

_November,_ _2009_

"Are you joining?"  
"No."  
Silence. That  
was all Quinn got from him anymore, silence. It was beyond frustrating and ridiculous. Never mind that he was probably still a little drunk, that didn't matter. Quinn didn't matter to him. She felt like a little girl, too eager to please and trying to hard. It made her feel so insignificant, so small. She hated it. It was irritating and damn it, she just wished that she was the only one who lost Finn sometimes, in times like this, especially. Noah was hot and cold, a tall, dark, light switch that left Quinn breathless, always trying to catch up. But, after the hell of a day she'd had, getting caught drinking and dealing with Puck, she wasn't going to sit idle.

"I am." She quickened her pace a little, the rash decision  
propelling her forward. She had originally wanted to think it over, debate it, but now, she didn't care. She was in. Glancing at the brace on her arm, she finally came to terms with that fact that cheer leading was over for her, for good, mots likely. She wouldn't stay around and come back out in the spring. She was done. That was it. Quinn was a closet-passionate girl, one who secretly hated the structure  
of Cheerio's and popularity. With Finn gone, she was on some sort of twisted soul-search, and music would be one of the first outlets. Well, non-illegal and/or destructive ones. She'd been exposed to it enough, and could play the piano and read music. It wouldn't kill her, but it would drive Puck insane.  
Reaching her locker, she opened the door, only to have it shut. Looking over, he stood, holding it closed.  
"What?" She  
asked, irritated.

Open, shut.  
Open, shut.  
Open, shut.  
"You can't join glee."  
"Yes, I can, and I am."

He ran a hand over his Mohawk, the one that he had been growing back out since the funeral.  
"Quinn, don't be difficult.""Me? Difficult? That's hilarious."  
"No, it isn't. If you join the  
homo explosion, then I have to."  
"One, that is offensive. Two, no you  
don't. You're capable of making  
your own choices."  
"What does that  
mean?"  
"It means that you chose not to, so you still can, and what I do doesn't matter."  
"Yeah, it does. We're in the same boat, remember?"  
"Remember, like you did when you blew me off in there, and  
just now?  
I don't have to rope you into anything. I don't need to be the cause of you being dragged around and pushed into things. If you don't want to deal with me, then don't. Leave. I don't care anymore." Quinn said, tired of their angsty conversation. She knew she didn't even sound like herself, but didn't care. Puck was a stone wall, and trying to  
get the message through was difficult.

"I do care." He said, more softly this time. Quinn shut her locker slowly, quietly. Looking up at him, she sighed.  
"Do you, really?"  
"Yes. I'm not going to leave. I don't even know why that came up. I just feel like if you do this club, then I need to, but not for reasons you think."  
"Oh?"

"I don't want you to be alone."  
"Britt and San will join."

"I don't want you to hear music and picture Finn dancing like an idiot and be the only one in the room who feels hurt."  
Quinn was floored. She didn't realize that Puck felt that way, felt the same hurt. After their initial first day of sneaking out together, things had been rough and emotionless, the boy more closed off than ever. It had made Quinn wonder if Puck even cared anymore, at all.  
"Thanks." She managed.

"Yeah." They stood awkwardly, not knowing what came next.  
Not knowing that each both wanted to stretch out their arms, embrace the other, and finally let the tears fall.

* * *

_"Alright, picture time!"_

_"No." The two said in unison, glaring at Finn, who held up his new cell phone proudly. It was the summer before their eighth grade year, and for his fourteenth birthday, Carole managed to save up the money to get Finn a nice phone, one _  
_with , apparently, an amazing camera. The three were spread out in Finn's yard, Quinn laying out, Puck sort of lounging on the ground, throwing a football up in the air. It was August, and the heat was almost unbearable. However, the inside of the house was even worse than out, so the three had resigned to being outside._  
_"I'm a hot mess, Finn." Quinn said, draping an arm over her eyes._  
_"No, you're beautiful. Isn't she beautiful, Puckerman?"_  
_"Just gorgeous." Came his sleepy reply._  
_"Which is why I want a picture of her. And Quinn, isn't Puck a stud?" Finn ask, a lazy grin on his face. The other two were irritated with the heat. Finn, however, was on cloud nine._  
_"Model status." Quinn said, giggling._  
_"Okay, so I have a beautiful best friend, and a studly best friend. Seems like a good match for a picture, to me." Finn said. Walking over to Quinn, he picked her up, ignoring her shrieking, and deposited her_  
_on top of Puck, who rolled over, unceremoniously pushing her to the side._  
_Quinn sighed, rolling over, edging Puck with her elbow._  
_"Smile on three!" Finn shouted, looming over them._

_One on, Quinn rolled closer to Puck._  
_On two, he managed to wrap an arm around her._  
_On three, they smiled like it was the best day of their lives, the camera flashing, the photographer's smile brighter than the sun._

* * *

Quinn sighed, sitting on her bed that afternoon. Shifting a little, she smoothed a thumb over the picture of her and Puck. After uploading it to his computer, Finn had three copies printed. Quinn's blonde hair was spread out all over, her long legs clad in frayed jean shorts, her white tank top riding up a bit,pearly whites formed into an enormous Puck's lopsided grin was gleaming, his abs toned and tanned, visible through his own white t-shirt. It had been such a happy day. And Quinn, Puck, and Finn, would never  
have such a carefree summer day again.  
Finn would never have another birthday present again. Finn, no naive to the fact that his mom couldn't even afford air conditioning, but bought her only child, only son, a phone.

Her head hurt. Quinn sat up, pushing the picture into her nightstand, unable to put it where it once hung on her bulletin board. Hugging her knees to her chest, she contemplated glee club.  
Would she see the joy Finn saw, feel the happiness he felt? Or would an eighties rock song be mentioned, and Puck and she would end up staring blankly at the door, waiting for the memories to leave? She didn't know. In a time full of questions and searching, it was just another question she didn't have an answer for.  
But she would find out soon enough.

* * *

I managed to get my computer under control, this A/N is an edit. I reformatted it, hope it worked! Reviews are gold!


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, okay. My life got off track. Anyways, I've kept you waiting, so not any longer!

Enjoy!

_That following Monday_

* * *

Jew-girl was yelling at Mr. Shue, Homo and Aretha were doing vocal runs, Asian-goth and Wheels were racing back and forth, and Quinn sat in the corner of the room, long fingers gracefully playing the abandoned piano. Well, with one hand. But still. Oh, her grace.

If it wasn't for her, he would never be in here.

But everything was always Quinn. For his whole life, Puck had lived, alongside Finn, to make her happy. Most days the boys didn't even notice that she wasn't just a guy like them, but those rare moments occurred, and her femininity shone through. Quinn was tough on the outside, but delicate on the inside. Like a sunflower. She looked sturdy, but in reality, the threat of a bad stormed loomed, daring to knock her over. After all, petals aren't made to sustain hurricanes.

Most days Puck really did feel the pressure of being the only one of them left, the only man to take care of Quinn. Despite her insistence, Quinn did need people. She needed someone to hold her up and wipe her tears and now that Fin, the sentimental, perfect guy was gone, Puck had one hell of a job to do. He didn't know how to handle Quinn. Ever since Finn's death, everything had to be relearned. It was like the two didn't know what to be without him.

Oh, and what a job Puck was doing. Allowing her to get drunk and skip class. Finn was probably rolling over in his grave. Puck and he could do things like that, but not their Quinn. Quinn was a good girl. Of course, summertime and the boys and lazy days brought out her wild side, but not to this extent. Puck was corrupting her as he faced the ever-present struggle: Be Quinn's oxygen tank, or let her breathe on her own, even if it meant moments of suffocation?

Finding a balance was hard, but sucking it up and joining glee felt like a step in the right direction. Maybe Mr. Shue was right, maybe joy could be found through glee. Maybe he could finally hear what he hoped Finn was trying to tell him, that he was doing okay. That he would be okay.

Standing up from his back row red plastic seat, Puck made his way over to Quinn, joining her at the piano bench.

"Sorry if this isn't exactly what you thought it would be." She said softly, noting the chaos in the room.

"Eh, it's whatever. Besides, watching the freaks in their element in kind of interesting, like Animal Planet or some shit." He said back, offering a smirk only for her.

She returned it halfheartedly, absentmindedly plucking a few keys. "I guess its hard not to try and hold onto every piece of him that I can." She said finally, referring to Finn.

"I know." He looked down at his hands, for fear of what emotion her eyes held.

"And even if I can never feel again, I just want to feel him. People always say that can feel their loved ones, but I can't. He isn't here. I just, I'm ranting. Sorry."

He didn't want her to be sorry. He wanted her to talk again, forever, droning on the way she did when she was only around the boys, a total chatterbox. He missed the way she would rant, the secret, knowing smiles Finn and he would share as she talked their heads off during long, summer afternoons. Now she was reserved, and this kind of talk was rare. Yet, he couldn't find the words he wanted to say, to encourage her.

"It's cool." Yeah, not what he was going for. He confirmed the suspicion by noting the way she bit her lower lip and looked down, not meeting his gaze. Before he could backtrack and rephrase, Mr. Shue finally decided to get the room in order.

Everyone's timing was absolutely perfect today, Puck noted with sarcasm. He took a seat right next to Quinn, but yet it felt as though they were miles apart.

* * *

Mr. Shue was talking about some competition, sectionals, and how new members were coming in, how they needed one more, and how lucky they were that the competition was so late in the season. Quinn didn't hear any of it. Instead, her mind perceived her heartbeat, dull and lagging, Puck's far-off stare, the tick of the clock. Everything a reminder that here she was, still living, she still had time.

Finn didn't.

Lately, it was like her mind couldn't stop entertaining the damn thoughts about Finn. Ones of Puck weren't much better. Everything was confusing and made her head and heart hurt.

Why couldn't her head just explode already and release her memories of that night? She searched desperately for clues. News reports told her it was raining, but that never made it in her dreams. They told her the basics, but she hadn't been able to get her hands on much. She needed Puck, his words. She needed to know what he felt, what she felt, what _really_ happened. _Their_ story, not the media's. Really, what was the big deal with telling her? Something must have happened, something that he just couldn't tell. It made her want to know all the more.

"Quinn?" Her head shot up. Puck stood over her.

"Oh, it's time to go. I guess I just zoned out." She grabbed her bag, standing up.

"You didn't miss much. Berry wants solos but Hummel thinks he should have them. And Mercedes, don't even start with me on that chick."

"You know their names?"

"You can learn a lot in an hour when you pay attention, Fabray." Puck said, nudging her.

_Fabray. _There was such comfort in nicknames. It made her feel like things weren't as bad as she thought. That her and Puck could be normal, whatever that was.

She wasn't sure yet. But little by little, maybe they would define what their normal was.

* * *

Keep me inspired, review lovelies! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Hello, all. At the beginning of this story, I said I would never abandon it. This still holds true today. However, there is a lot of pain and emotion behind the main themes and concepts of what I am writing about. As in my life, in all other times, writing is a tremendous way to help me both express and cope with what I am feeling. I started sharing my work in the hopes that maybe, someone who didn't have the words could find expression through my humble works. Yet, despite my passion and your amazing response, the struggle is still there. So although I will not discontinue this story, it will be slow going. I am in a much better place than I was when I started this story, and it feels hard to reopen some wounds. So, please, don't expect even weekly updates. I will honestly try my best, but I am an optimistic person that would much rather focus on the happier aspects of life if possible. With all my passion, I thank you.

Enjoy.

xoxo,

littelredwritinggleek

* * *

_October, 2009_

_ McKinley_ was in an absolute frenzy. It was the week before the "big game". The make-or-break game. Optimism flooded through every student's veins, and nerds and jocks alike anticipated the excitement that Friday would hold. Never had Lima seen a team as good as the current one. And with the dynamic duo of Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman, who had crushed records already, everything seemed to be falling into place.

Homecoming week. For girls it meant dresses and dancing, for the boys it meant football and possibly some action, but for Quinn Fabray it meant cheering on her boys and winning Queen, with Finn as her King.

She would have thought that being friends with two boys would be awkward, but Noah's womanizing ways only made things easier between the three: She didn't have to worry about him feeling left out. No, she could focus on being that perfect girl, perfect girlfriend. Despite her home life being somewhat broken, the pressure was still there. In fact, Quinn put it on herself. If she couldn't control everything, at least she could maintain her image. Finn and Puck were sloppy, and went with things, Quinn had to be that structure.

Too bad Finn was straying. Ever since he joined glee club at the beginning of the year, he had been so into it. She wasn't going to not be supportive or bitchy about it, but she felt left out. Lately, she and Puck had been talking more. When Finn was at rehearsal, they'd often go out and sit on the bleachers outside, waiting for him to be done.

What good friends were for.

Good friends.

That was it.

Quinn knew she was being paranoid, but lately it was like something had changed. No, she hadn't, nor would she ever _dare_, cheat on Finn, but she couldn't deny the certain level of _feelings _there was. Like a little girl growing up, she suddenly was all-too aware of how muscular Puck was, how smoldering her eyes were, how her skin felt electric whenever he grazed her arm. Of course, they still held normal conversations, and didn't sit there staring at each other, but she knew he felt it, too.

It was all so wrong. Finn was good, perfect, even. That was what she wanted. He was all that you saw, no hidden meanings or unclear lines. Finn put himself out there and that was that, done. Simple. Cute, adoring, sometimes silly, Finn.

Puck, on the other hand, was a hot mess. He was all blurry lines and rough edges and missing puzzle pieces. He wasn't what good-girls stuck around with. But there was that deep, meaningful side to him, hidden under all the sharp points, that appealed to Quinn. He wasn't safe, like Finn, but Finn was alluring, dangerous. Quinn had seen her own mother break, so why should she turn away from Finn? Maybe he wasn't super-passionate, but could high-schoolers even experience that? How many people really did? Finn was as steady as a rock, safe as a locked door on a sunny afternoon. So why did Quinn suddenly start longing for an open window on a storming night?

Sitting with Puck after their practices on Monday, she tried to figure it out. But yet, he was the same old Puck, and she had no answer. As he went on about Mario Kart and Neil Diamond, she listened, finding his openness much more rewarding than talking with Finn. She loved Finn, but he was always an open book, to the point where there was never any hanging onto his words. Yet, letting Puck's calm voice fill her ears with beautiful white noise, she cast her thoughts aside.

Safety was just that, safe.

* * *

Finn felt so guilty. He shouldn't have, because it was such an innocent thing, but still, thoughts of Quinn flooded his mind as he danced with Rachel Berry, the school theater-freak that somehow seemed to capture his heart.

The list of reasons went on and on. He loved Quinn, but she was quiet, usually, which sometimes against her will made her appeal cold. Rachel was an open book, you got what you saw, and her almost-constant enthusiasm and happiness, worn for all to see, was refreshing. Uplifting, even. Then, there was the feel of her significantly smaller frame pressed to his, her bright smile, warm brown eyes, the feel of her shiny hair, the child-like innocence, the truthfulness...

No. Outside, sitting in the sun, probably listening to Puck drone off, boring her, was Quinn. Faithful, pretty, beautiful Quinn. Rachel was a fire-cracker, one hell of a risk. He shouldn't even be attracted to her. But yet, he heard her sing, felt her passion, and then suddenly he knew it. He kinda sorta had a crush on Rachel. Despite it being all wrong, the feeling was there.

Quinn was mysterious sure, but still, safe. Despite what lurked under her surface, despite the lost-sense she had, especially compared to the fact that Rachel knew exactly what she wanted, and wasn't afraid of it, Quinn was good for him. She was his life-long best friend, the girl he fell for first, and that had to count for something.

Holding onto Rachel close in glee, he felt so tempted to turn her chin upwards and kiss her full, soft lips.

But Quinn was safe.

Safety was just that, safe.

* * *

Betcha didn't see that coming! Hope you liked the bit of Finn you got. If you get confused about the plot, which will start to jump, don't hesitate to ask. Also, these chapters that are coming up lead to key plot points. If they seem a little more poetic than direct, there's a a reason for that!

Review?


	8. Chapter 8

_December, 2009_

She reaches the point where she doesn't want to think about death anymore. It's a few weeks after she joined glee. Well, everyone did. People came flooding in, the cheerleaders and football players living up to their promises. At sectionals, Rachel sang a huge song, and then they all sang, and Jacob Ben Israel swayed in the back as promised, and that was that. It was an easy win, and it felt good to win for Quinn.

Life felt like it was coming together, like it didn't have to be such a text-book things, with stages of depression and grief and dealing The weeks sort of fell into an easy pattern, and Quinn felt herself reviving. The start of December brought off her cast, and a new feel to the air. Lights went up in store windows, wreaths put in the doorways. She didn't think about Finn though, how he wouldn't see this Christmas. The excitement whirled around her, and it made her smile.

She actually _smiled._

Puck picked up on it, too. They no longer sat in silence, or awkwardly danced around each other. Rather, things felt normal again. They texted at night and sometimes went on walks in the park. They talked about normal things and easily avoided the certain subject that had once threatened to tear them apart.

The first Friday of December, they continued on one of their walks. With Regionals not until late spring, the two had an easy schedule, and they took advantage of it. Their hands brushed as their feet crunched the fresh layer of snow, everything an organized chaos of white flurries and twinkling lights.

"I have something for us." Puck said as they took a seat on a bench.

Quinn shot him a knowing look. "Really."

"Yes, really." He grinned, in that pleased kiddish way of his. God, it was so hard not to feel his infectious smile. Where had that smile been? Completely uptight or easy-going, it didn't matter who anyone was. No one could escape the charm of Noah Puckerman. He just drew people in so damn easily, and Quinn felt herself falling victim to his friendly demeanor everyday.

The just smiled, leaving Quinn guessing. Standing up, he held out his hand, and she took it without a second thought. It was cold and his palm felt warm against hers as they made their way back to his truck.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"My house." He said, drumming his fingers against the wheel as he sat at a light.

* * *

The door creaked open slightly, the oven light revealing that is was six o'clock. Being winter in Ohio, that meant that darkness had already fallen upon Lima.

'Where's your mom?"

"Work."

"And your sister?"

"Sleepover."

"Ah." Quinn said. She had absolutely no idea as to what was going on, but nothing felt dangerous. In fact, it sort of felt the way things did back when Noah had obtained something alcoholic and she and Finn had shared an uncertain glance before taking a sip. Only now, she felt as though he was on Noah's side.

His room hadn't changed since she had last slept in it. Now, the only difference was the small little mechanism sitting on the floor.

"Where did you get that?"

"No questions." He said, taking a seat.

Hookah. Puck had gotten them hookah. Quinn shook her head a little, the notion of it all crazy. Sure, in high school obtaining drugs wasn't hard, but this was an actual hookah machine, or whatever it was called. Quinn didn't even know how the hell he had gotten one. She sat anyways.

"Surprise number two." Puck said, revealing a bottle of wine.

"Hookah and wine. Classy." Quinn said, leaning back against his bed.

"All for you."

"No, really, why all of this illegality right now?"

"Because," Puck said, "The holidays are coming up, it's freezing cold outside, and I just wanted to do something fun with my best friend." He said ti all nonchalantly, uncorking the wine.

_Best friend. _What the hell did that mean? Of course, that's what they were,best friends, but still. The words made her heart soar and crash all at the same time. It felt like more than she had ever wanted, but also a crushing blow. Quinn shook her head a little again. She over-analyzed everything.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Quinn was an absolute, giggling idiot. It made Puck grin. The blonde was always so uptight, it felt so good to see her laugh. Sure, alcohol didn't have to fuel every good night, but Quinn hadn't even drunk that much. And that smile, God her smile. It was sunlight to him. She blew the smoke vapor, shakily exhaling as she laughed, throwing her head back. He grinned, his head a bit fuzzy.

"All out." Quinn said, shaking the hose. Honestly, taking the hookah Santana had offered him had been a great idea. Sure, they were a few years under-aged, but never had Puck felt so, not-tense.

Obviously, he wasn't going to be lighting up every night. But in the moment, things felt perfect. And both of them felt very, very drunk.

Quinn crawling closer to him had, at first, been a mere maneuver to reach the bottle of wine. Quinn taking his hoodie had been because she was cold. Quinn rolling up the sleeves and playing with the zipper had been because she was just adorable like that.

But him, leaning down and pecking her cheek, had not been expected. Yet, Quinn didn't jump, or flee. Under the haze of smoke and the serenity of wine, she titled her head up, making contact with Puck's lips. The kiss was slow, soft, and tasted like wine and lip gloss.

It was everything Puck had dreamed about since he was five. Since he first fell in love with Quinn Fabray. It was also everything that Finn Hudson had once loved, also.

He could say it was the sheer lack of oxygen that broke them apart, that forced him to pull his hand off the back of her head. But in reality, it was the lingering thoughts of his former best friend, dead best friend, that made Puck turn away. Finn was no longer living, but kissing Quinn had to be breaking some type of bro-code.

Quinn was taken a back, leaning against his bed once again and she regained control of her breathing.

"Quinn?" Puck asked. His half-drunken mind couldn't read her.

"What?"

"Are you-"

"Okay?" She looked up. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because we just kissed."

"You said it yourself, we're best friends." It was accusatory or hurt, but a simple statement of a fact.

"I know. I just didn't know if that was too much."

"Did you have a good time tonight?"

"Yes." Puck said slowly, trying to read her yet again.

Quinn sighed, shrugging off the hoodie.

"Is it that bad to feel good?"

"Finn is dead, Quinn. You were dating him, and now we kissed. I don't know if this can happen. " Puck said. It was blunt, but he had never been one for lying.

"It did happen. And for once in my fucking life, I felt something. I got drunk and stoned and kissed my friend and I felt something." She reasoned. "Is it so bad to feel?"

"No, I guess not." He said, looking directly into her eyes.

"Then why are we holding back?"


End file.
